The Trees Flew By
by IMTheresa
Summary: In the car, the boys are lost in their own thoughts.


**The Trees Flew By**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but I like playing with them in my sandbox. I hope the real owners don't mind.

**A/N:** This started out as a bunch of ramblings. I guess it still is, but I've managed to weave them together into something story-like. As always, I'd love to know what you think!

oooOOOooo

Sam Winchester sat on the passenger side of the 1967 Chevy Impala he'd known since childhood. His father lovingly cared for it over the years and gave it to his older brother on his eighteenth birthday. The car was familiar; it was comfortable. As he stared out of the window, Sam realized that it was the most stable thing in his nomadic childhood.

It wasn't easy growing up with a father who hunted ghosts and other supernatural beings. That wasn't the kind of job that allowed the family to live in any one place for very long, and more often than not, the boys attended more than one school in a year. Once Sam was in school, too, John did try harder to keep them settled. They weren't allowed to have any real friends because they couldn't let anyone know what their father really did. There were many cover stories over the years, but most often they told people that John was a salesman and had to travel a lot. Sometimes John was described as an alcoholic and his absences were blamed on yet another bender.

For a long time Sam didn't realize he and Dean were different from the other kids at school. When he did realize it, anger slowly grew in him until he didn't know how to contain it any more. He and John fought, sometimes bitterly, and usually Dean was the one who restored peace to the family. Sam felt he'd missed out on so much – he couldn't have friends, he couldn't play sports or join any clubs at school; he didn't even have any roots. His hometown of Lawrence was just a word to him, until a vision involving their old house took him and Dean back to Kansas a couple of years ago.

Sam's anger and John's refusal to listen to him forced him from the family when he was barely eighteen years old. All he wanted to do was go to college and try being normal for a while. Somehow, despite moving around a lot, he'd managed to maintain a solid A average and, even more surprising, landed a full scholarship to Stanford University. The fight was already in full force when Dean came home and there was nothing he could do to make it better. Sam was gone the next day and even though Dean and John would go by Stanford whenever they could, it was two years before the brothers talked again.

He didn't regret wanting to go his own way, but Sam desperately regretted the argument. He felt guilty for leaving Dean the way he did and for not getting in touch with him. Even then, he knew that Dean wouldn't contact him because, not only was he hurt, Dean was giving him the time he needed. Sam now knew that his brother and father often came to Stanford to check on him, even though they never made their presence known. He now knew that John loved him and was proud of him. Sam knew a lot of things now that he didn't know then.

Sam didn't know why he was thinking about that fight right now. Only a few minutes before he'd been watching the trees fly by as Dean drove; his thoughts were of the job they'd just finished and had nothing to do with John Winchester.

Dean came to Stanford, asking for Sam's help to find their father, but they didn't talk about the fight or Sam's leaving two years before. After Jessica died and Sam left school, they spent countless hours together where they didn't talk about Sam's leaving. And now, a year after John's death, it was still a subject yet to be broached.

Even so long after Jessica's death, it was sometimes hard to think about her. It surprised Sam when he felt the tears sting his eyes. In reality, the tears were probably also for his father and how things were between them when John died.

_Died._ Sam almost laughed out loud. John didn't just die; he gave himself to the yellow-eyed demon in exchange for Dean. The youngest Winchester never wanted to choose between his father and his brother, but he was so grateful to John for giving him the gift of Dean. Sam loved his father, and there was no doubt that John loved him, but they needed Dean to temper their conflicts. They would never have been able to coexist without him.

Sam did consider his brother's life to be a gift. Dean had always been there for him; he had been the one Sam could count on. Dean gave everything to his family and even when he had nothing left to give, somehow Sam came first. The younger brother knew that, but still took it for granted for far too long. Not anymore, though. He'd watched Dean tailspin after their father's death and he saw him gradually fall apart. He watched Dean drink too much and hunt with too much enthusiasm. Eventually, he opened up to Sam and let him in. He told Sam everything he felt about John's death and finally shared the secret John had burdened him with in the last moments of his life. The brothers were closer now than they probably ever had been and Sam no longer took Dean, or his sacrifices, for granted.

Dean was sitting in the driver's seat, leaning back somewhat and one hand draped over the steering wheel. Sam watched him from the corner of his eye and marveled, still, at how confident he came across. Sam knew there were times when Dean was scared, but he rarely let it show. Of course his skill at hiding his fear translated in being able to hide everything else as well.

Sam turned back to the window as the tears again threatened to fall. He didn't know where they were; he wasn't even sure where they were going. They still hunted, but didn't manically go from one job to the next. They often took time off to explore, see the sites, and just rest. Sam remembered a conversation from a year ago in River Grove, Oregon. He had been exposed to a virus that he and Dean knew was connected to the demon that killed their mother and they thought it would be the end for him. Expecting Sam to get violent, like the other victims, Dean locked them in a room even though Sam begged him to leave and save himself.

"_Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you."_

"_No?"_

"_No. You can keep going."_

"_Who says I want to?"_

"_What?"_

"_I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job; this life. The weight on my shoulders, and_ _I'm tired of it."_

Even now those words echo in Sam's head and make him feel nauseated. The thought that Dean would just give up if something happened to him was frightening and he'd never been able to ask Dean if his feelings had changed.

They tried to stop the nomadic hunting for a while, but they still kept looking for leads on the yellow-eyed demon. It didn't take long for Dean to get the itch for a case and once they finished it, he wanted another. But it was different now. He didn't need it like he used to and he let Sam take more of a leading role. The older brother still felt the need to protect the younger, but it was no longer overwhelming for him or suffocating for Sam.

The trees were still flying by as Sam watched through the window. They didn't have another case and they would stop for the night when Dean was tired of driving. Sam shifted and tried to stretch his long legs into a more comfortable position.

Dean glanced at him, but said nothing. The silence was comfortable and, in a way, comforting. He was good at hiding his emotions, but Sam could almost always read him. They knew each other so well and so many things could be conveyed in just a glance. It had to be that way because on a hunt sometimes the only way to communicate was with a look. The same could be said when they were in a bar.

For a lot of years, Dean enjoyed hunting women almost as much as he enjoyed hunting ghosts. He had a lot of one-night stands while Sam spent the night alone in whatever motel they had a room. Sam missed Jessica and was afraid if he got close to another woman, she would die the same way. Over the last year, Dean's appetite had decreased somewhat while Sam's increased and sometimes Dean spent the night alone in their motel room now.

Sam smiled briefly at this brother, then laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. He was tired and stiff from being in the car, but Dean had the content look on his face that he got when he was having fun driving his car. Sam could sleep in the car; after Jessica died, it was the only place he could sleep. The nightmares still found him in the car, but it was easier to fall asleep with the feel of the road and the growl of the engine to comfort him.

John gave the car to Dean when he turned eighteen. They'd gone out to dinner with Pastor Jim; a real dinner and not burgers at some fast food restaurant. John wrapped up a set of keys and handed it to Dean after they'd finished dessert. Sam couldn't remember ever having seen his brother so happy before. Jim and John left together and the brothers spent the rest of the evening in the Impala. Dean didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to drive.

Many older brothers were tired of hanging out with the younger one by the time they reached eighteen, but not Dean. He never seemed to be tired of Sam.

Dean looked over at his brother. He knew Sam was asleep; he'd heard the slight change in his breathing the moment it happened. When Sam was a baby, Dean always knew what he needed. Almost before he'd start to cry, Dean knew he was hungry or that his diaper needed to be changed. He knew when Sam wanted to be held, wanted to be rocked, or just wanted to hear a familiar voice.

Somehow, though, despite knowing his brother so well, Dean was blindsided by Sam's college plans. Looking back, he thought that was worse than Sam actually leaving. Over the years, he'd wanted to ask Sam how he managed to do it and why Sam never talked to him about it. Like so many others, that was a conversation they never had. Things were so much better between them now; better than they had been since they were children, but there were still some things Dean was afraid to talk about.

Right now, what Dean knew was that Sam really wanted to be in a bed. He'd never say anything because he knew Dean loved being behind the wheel of the Impala, but he saw a sign advertising a motel they would reach in about an hour and decided they should stop there for the night. He watched the trees fly by and pushed the gas pedal a little harder.

Just like they'd been doing for a while, they would take a few days off before looking for the next job. Sam would be up first. He'd take a shower and slip out of the room; he'd probably go for a walk and then come back with coffee. Dean would just be waking up and he'd drink the coffee in bed. That's not what happened every morning, but Dean was sure it would happen tomorrow. It wasn't predictable; it was comfortable and Dean realized he craved comfort.

He used to think he liked adventure and spontaneity, which he did to a certain degree, but he was surprised to find that he also needed familiarity. He suspected that was one reason he liked the Impala so much. He remembered the hours he and John would spend caring for it; John taught him everything he knew about cars using the Impala. While they worked on it, they would talk about all kinds of things and that was when Dean felt closest to his father.

Even a year after John's death, not a day went by that Dean didn't think about him. He still didn't feel right to be alive while John was dead, but Sam had managed to make him understand it was what John wanted. Dean still didn't like it, but he was glad to be with Sam. And he knew Sam was glad to be with him. His brother and father never would have stuck together without someone there to stop their fights. There might have been phone calls for a while, but eventually, they would have probably lost contact. It never occurred to Dean that their grief over his death might have brought them together.

He thought about the fights Sam and John had over the years, suddenly remembering the last one before Sam left for college. He wished he'd been more supportive of his brother, but he stood by his father. John taught them that family was important and that they needed to stick together. Dean believed that with every fiber of his being and was hurt when Sam wanted to leave. He didn't admit that to himself for a very long time. He also didn't admit that he had been jealous of Sam for having the courage to do it. He eventually told Sam he was proud of him for what he'd done, but he never told Sam the rest of his feelings.

There were a lot of times he only told Sam half of his feelings, even now that he was trying to be more open with him. Sam was taller than him, he was broader than him; but Sam would always be his little brother and sometimes that meant he needed to be less than honest. Dean still felt that Sam needed his protection – or more correctly, wished he did.

Sam's head fell sideways as Dean navigated a curve in the road and he glanced over at him. His hair was always too long and his bangs had fallen over his closed eyes. Dean felt a sudden urge to brush the hair aside, but ignored it and turned his eyes back to the road. He had to blink back tears.

He knew this life couldn't go on forever. They would kill the yellow-eyed demon one day; more people were helping and they were very close to it. They were also close to having another way to kill it. Dean was afraid that once it was gone, Sam would be ready to try that normal life he wanted before. He didn't talk about it, but Dean knew it was still something he thought about.

As afraid Dean was of Sam leaving, he was more afraid of him not. He had been through so much in the last couple of years. In addition to the loss of his girlfriend and his father, he had to face the demon's plans for him. He did it head on, but Dean had his back and together, they worked through it. Any one of those things would have crippled a lesser person, but Sam was strong and with Dean in his corner, there was nothing he couldn't handle. But should he have to keep handling them? Shouldn't he have some peace in his life? That's really all Dean wanted for him – and he was slowly realizing that's what he wanted for himself, too.

He watched the trees flying by again for a few minutes. Dean was tired of thinking, afraid of where his thoughts might lead him. He had desires, so secret that even he didn't know what they were. When he realized some of the things he wanted, like comfort and peace, he was surprised and sometimes a little afraid. He always thought he liked action, the hunt, the kill. He still got satisfaction from those things, from getting rid of something evil in the world and making it safer for people, but realizing that he wanted something else caused him to question everything he thought he knew about himself.

Sometimes Dean tried to picture his life after killing the yellow-eyed demon, but he couldn't see it. He used to think if the Winchesters weren't together, they weren't a family. That was something else Sam had taught him; no matter where they were, they were a family. When he was completely honest with himself, those few moments where he let all of his defenses down, he could admit that he didn't expect to live through the final battle and, in some ways, he found comfort in that. The death would be an honorable one and would be the perfect excuse to give up the hunt; to give up the responsibility.

He and Sam left River Grove, Oregon with the mystery of the virus still mostly unsolved. The entire population of the small town was missing and they both knew nothing good could come from that. Dean pulled off the road by a lake and they got lost in their own thoughts for a while.

"_So, last night. You wanna tell me what the hell you were talking about?"_ he remembered Sam asking.

"_What do you mean?"_

"_What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of Dad."_

"_Forget it." _

"_No, I can't. No way."_

"_Well, man, I thought we were both gonna die. You can't hold that over me."_

"_No, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me. You're talking."_

"_And what if I don't?"_

"_Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking you until you do."_

Relief flooded over Dean with his brother's words. Dean needed to talk about it, but, like so many other times, he also needed to be pushed into it.

"_I don't know, man. I just think we ought to – go to the Grand Canyon."_

"_What!?"_

"_Yeah! I mean, all this driving back and forth across the country and, you know, I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to TJ or Hollywood! See if we could bang Lindsay Lohan."_

"_You're not making any sense."_

"_I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life for a bit?"_

"_Why are you saying all this?"_

Dean remembered he walked away from the wooden fence he'd been leaning on, not sure if he could continue talking or not. But Sam didn't let him off the hook. He did just what Dean needed him to do and pushed him just a little bit more. Dean told him the secret John whispered to him just before he sacrificed himself to the demon. Relieved of that burden, there were so many to shoulder, and Dean realized he was still tired. A year later, he had yet to seen the Grand Canyon.

He was still trying to picture life after the demon's death when he pulled into the motel parking lot and didn't notice he'd turned the heater up in the car. He was cold, but it was a cold that came from inside and wasn't caused by the temperature outside.

Uncomfortable from the heat and no longer comforted by the low rumble of the engine, Sam woke up. He glanced out of the window and saw the offensive neon of the motel sign they were parked beside. He thought Dean would be in the office, securing a room, and was surprised to see him still behind the wheel and staring into space.

"Dean?" he asked, sitting up.

Dean glanced at him, a haunted look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

The older brother shook his head and reached for the door handle. "Nothing. I'll be right back."

Sam watched him walk the short distance to the office door. The confident swagger was gone from his walk, and Dean's head hung low. Sam rubbed his eyes and wondered what Dean had been thinking about while he slept. As open as Dean was with him now, he knew there was a place Dean hadn't let him see yet; a place that probably had something to do with the yellow-eyed demon.

He watched as Dean left the office, his head still hanging and his hands in his pockets.

"We're at the end." he said, getting back into the car.

They unloaded their gear and Dean flopped down on the bed closest to the door.

"Tired?" Sam asked as he kicked off his shoes.

Dean clasped his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I guess."

"You all right?"

"Yeah."

Sam pulled an atlas from his bag. "You know, we're not that far from the Grand Canyon."

Dean smiled to himself. "I'm okay, man."

"Yeah, I know. But we still haven't been to the Grand Canyon. Why are we putting it off?"

Dean knew why. Even though he'd wanted to go to the Grand Canyon since he was a kid, he never told his father. He hunted alone a few times after Sam left for school and had the opportunity to go then, but he didn't. He didn't admit it for a while, and still wasn't able to say it out loud to his brother, but he suspected that the Grand Canyon would be the last thing he ever saw and he wasn't ready yet. They were close to killing the yellow-eyed demon, but not close enough.

"Dean?"

"Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay? You wanna go find something to eat before we turn in?"

"I'm good, but I'll ride with you."

"I'm good." he reached over and turned off the lamp. "Let's just get some sleep."

Dean stared at the dark ceiling for a while, trying to picture his life after the demon. He could see Sam with a home, a wife and maybe some kids. He probably wouldn't give up hunting completely, but it wouldn't be a full-time gig. Try as he might, Dean couldn't picture himself and he was almost soothed by that.

When Dean closed his eyes he saw trees flying by.

_Fin_


End file.
